


A Little Fall of Rain

by lupwned



Series: When You Come Home to Me [2]
Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, It's just a mess of things honestly, Romance, Short, Spring, Theatre, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-02-13 05:25:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupwned/pseuds/lupwned
Summary: ~ And you will keep me safeAnd you will keep me closeAnd rain will make the flowers grow ~Post-OakroomHarge had never bought her flowers. On occasion, she'd purchased some for herself to arrange on their dining room table. Red roses and white magnolias had always been two of her favorites. Abby had gifted a bouquet one depressing birthday. Until today, though, Carol had never bought flowers for someone else – especially not someone like Therese. But the way Therese gasps excitedly and smiles with shining dimples makes Carol want to buy the entire shop's worth if only to see Therese light up so brightly.COMPLETE





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Although not necessary to understand this story, this falls shortly after my other fic - [Beneath A Moonless Sky](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12360915/chapters/28116858). If so inclined, give that one a read, let me know what you think, then sit down and enjoy this little piece :)

_A little fall of rain, can hardly hurt me now_  
_You're here. That's all I need to know_

* * *

 

The first spring shower comes in the beginning of April. After a rough winter – whose frigid weather extends throughout their reunion – the warm, tamer weather surrounds New York in a much-welcomed embrace. The weeks after they find each other again are filled with much time indoors – talking, reminiscing, truly getting to know one another. They make love beneath the blankets and share each other's sweaters. The weather affords them the privacy they were desperate for months ago. But the walks back and forth in the blistering snow and the cab rides so frequent the drivers begin referring to each of them by their first times grow old fast. There are many times when Carol wants to remind Therese of her offer – that it would make all of this so much simpler. Internally, though, she vows not to bring it up again until the time seems right. She will not put _this_ at risk.

Carol greets the spring with appreciation.

On the morning of the first rainfall of the new season, Carol wakes to glistening sunshine. The sun is deceiving in the winter, but the lack of frost on the window and the absence of the low hum of the boiler signal to her that it is, indeed, warm out for the first time in months. She sips on a cup of coffee and watches out the patio glass. The chirp of birds – something so mundane, background noise in the every day – is like music to her ears.

On her weekday off, in the winter months, Carol read, cooked, cleaned. Occasionally she would venture out to the store – window shop, occasionally find the courage to pick up small trinkets to spoil Therese. More often than not, though, she would stay indoors, avoiding the tourists and the frigid temperatures. The spring, however, beckons her, and on this beautiful day, Carol decides to warm her bones and surprise a certain someone with a visit.

From her closet, she picks a short-sleeved, knee-length white dress with a purple and red floral pattern. She hasn't worn it in years, but it reminds her of younger, carefree days. The makeup she chooses is lighter than normal – the faintest bit of mascara with a pink lip that matches her dress. After a quick brush of her hair, she pins her bangs back. It's a hairstyle that's unusual for her – less polished, impromptu, a bit youthful. Carol smiles at herself in the vanity before returning to the kitchen to prepare.

**-X-X-X-X-**

With a basket in hand, Carol walks down Madison toward Lexington. The trip to West 43rd will take some time, and with spring weather being so unpredictable, she decides to meander for a bit before she hails a cab. The joints in her fingers tingle with the slightest ache, a sign for most of her adult life that rain is not far off. Still, the blue sky with slow-moving white, fluffy clouds shows no sign of storms in the short term, so Carol enjoys her stroll, glancing through the windows of each store she passes.

A flash of yellow catches Carol's eye at the corner of Lexington and East 81st. A middle-aged man stands behind a cart full of freshly bloomed flowers. She approaches, running her fingers over the soft pedals of the various bouquets. “How much?” she asks, pointing at yellow and white daffodils.

“For you? $1 for the bunch.”

She's used to men's flirtations. She no longer wears Harge's ring, and it does not go unnoticed by the crowd. Various times, she's contemplated purchasing a cheap replacement, or perhaps something real to share with Therese in the privacy of their meetings. Barely a month together and she contemplates it. Carol smiles politely and bows her head before pulling a dollar bill from her wallet. She thanks the man, then rests the bouquet inside the basket she carries.

Although she'd opted for modest heels – with a thick black ankle strap for extra measure – after a few more blocks, Carol curses her shoes and finally opts to take a cab. She finds one with ease; the warmer weather seems to dissuade most from taking one.

In the weeks that followed their reunion, Carol learned that Therese had given up her original Manhattan apartment to move closer to the Times. Therese never discusses numbers with Carol, but her modest salary allows her to live comfortably in the city, and it doesn't hurt that they're only a few miles away from each other. In the winter, even those few miles felt like hundreds, but with the warmer weather, Carol surmises there will be more impromptu visits with one another. The cold had forced more rigid plans. The spring, on the other hand, encourages their spontaneity. Carol smiles in the back of the cab at the thought.

When she arrives at Therese's apartment, she pays her driver (plus a generous tip), then greets the doorman with a knowing nod. He's young, tall, good-looking. With the frequency of her visits, he must know the nature of their relationship. Still, he is always kind and welcoming, greeting her with a smile or a “good day, ma'am”. Sometimes, she wonders if they live in _similar_ circles. She never asks, but it always lingers in the back of Carol's mind.

Every afternoon, Therese walks home to enjoy lunch in peace. She'd explained to Carol that, for awhile, she'd stayed in the office to save face, but over time, she'd found more comfort in her own living room than the loud, crowded kitchen-space, or alone in the communal work area. She'd mentioned it as a throw-away comment, but Carol never forgets. She logs every preference, every story, and every dream of Therese's in her memory. Perhaps one day she will use it all to impress. For now, she bides her time.

Using the key Therese had given her, she quietly enters the younger woman's apartment to not be seen by watchful eyes. It's only 11:30 in the morning, and Carol doubts Therese would be home, but she calls the girl's name anyway to be sure. When there is no response, she shuffles inside and begins carrying out her plans. She effortlessly finds lunch plates and two wine glasses. Despite having only been to Therese's apartment a handful of times, Carol feels surprisingly at home there.

The patio attached to Therese's apartment is barely large enough for the two of them, but Carol manages anyway. She pulls a large, black and red checkered blanket from her basket and throws it across the floor, smoothing out the wrinkles and creases; Therese will not notice such details, Carol knows, but still, she can't resist. She's just finished plating Therese's lunch when the door opens. Trying not to startle her, Carol greets Therese with a pet name.

“Darling.”

Therese gasps. “Carol?”

Carol peeks her head around the patio doorframe. “Join me for lunch?”

When Therese fully sees the picnic display, she sighs contentedly. “Oh, Carol. You did all of this for me?”

“For us. I think I will enjoy it as well,” Carol teases. She sinks to the floor, sitting angled to retain her modesty in a dress. The way Therese eyes her, though. She bites her lower lip. Carol's cheeks grow the slightest bit red. Only Therese can make her blush with the simplest gaze. “Sit with me?” she asks, reaching out for the young woman's hand.

Without hesitation, Therese takes it, settling beside Carol. “Your hair,” she compliments, running her fingers over the light curls at the bottom and the bangs pinned away from Carol's face.

She feels self conscious for only a second before Therese adds, “Carol, you look stunning.” Although it fills her with warmth, Carol doesn't respond to it directly, instead grabbing the bottle of wine she's brought along from her basket and offering it forward.

“Would you like a glass?”

“I do have to return to work after this,” Therese teases.

Carol raises an eyebrow.

The pair descends into a series of giggles.

Carol removes the cork from the wine and pours each of them a small glass of white. She also hands Therese the plate she's put together of various fruits, cheeses, crackers and smoked meats. “You need brain food, miss photographer.” Carol winks.

Therese eats without argument. Carol simply sips her wine, adoring the woman beside her. The sun feels delightful against her bare arms. Somehow she manages to tear her eyes away from Therese long enough to look up at the sky, watching for a minute as the clouds settle above them. The fluffy whites she'd admired before are now off-grey. They signal rain, although the more prominent soreness in her knuckles already tells her that. But Therese looks so angelic before her, caught in-between the shadow of the clouds and the beams of sun that fight their way through them. Carol leans over and kisses behind Therese's ear; despite the warmth around them, she feels Therese's shiver against her lips.

Reaching behind her into the basket she's brought, Carol hands over the daffodils. She tries to think of something playful to say, but the words fail her. “They made me think of you,” Carol eventually offers with a shy smile.

Harge had never bought her flowers. On occasion, she'd purchased some for herself to arrange on their dining room table. Red roses and white magnolias had always been two of her favorites. Abby had gifted a bouquet one depressing birthday. Until today, though, Carol had never bought flowers for someone else – especially not someone like Therese. But the way Therese gasps excitedly and smiles with shining dimples makes Carol want to buy the entire shop's worth if only to see Therese light up so brightly.

When the first raindrops fall, only Carol seems to notice. They come infrequently and with no discernible pattern. She feels a faint wetness on her forearm, then her hand. It smells so fresh, rejuvenating to her lungs. She nuzzles her nose against the spot where Therese's shoulder and neck meet, which elicits a soft whimper beside her. Carol tilts her head up to the sky and sighs as the rain picks up at a more steady speed.

Therese finally notices. “I believe it's raining.”

“So it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I love writing Post-Oakroom fics! Although I'm categorizing this one as "technically" complete, I may continue ;) And, of course, there will be more to come in this universe. 
> 
> Comments make the author smile and inspire more :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Me:** Hey, you should probably update Canvas because people are going to start coming after you with pitchforks.  
>  **Also me:** Updates this instead.
> 
> :)

_Just hold me now, and let it be._  
_Shelter me, comfort me..._

* * *

 

The last week of April is filled with surprisingly warm, sunny weather. Carol takes advantage of it as often as she can, opting for walks during her lunch break and enjoying her first morning drag on the patio with a cup of black coffee as the sun rises. Sometimes, on the weekends Therese spends with her, they lay in bed and watch the world shift from shadows to sunshine through the thin veil of the bedroom curtains. It's peaceful - a perfect calm after the storm of the previous winter.

Carol receives the phone call from her lawyer early that week on Monday morning. She almost misses it, halfway out the door when it rings from its place on the side table in the open space between the kitchen and the living room. The news of an upcoming visit from Rindy fills her with so much warmth and happiness she feels as though she may cry; ducking into the washroom for a brief moment, Carol allows a few tears to fall until another minute longer will make her dreadfully late for work. With a sniff, she fixes her mascara, pinches her cheeks and rushes to catch a cab.

Although she tries her hardest not to appear distracted, Carol can think of nothing but her daughter. She briefly contemplates phoning Therese during her lunch break to share the news, but eventually decides against it. Instead, she writes a list of all the ingredients she will need for spaghetti and meatballs – Rindy's favorite – to bring with her to the grocery store later in the week. In their time apart, Carol guesses Rindy hasn't had the type of meals she'd been famous for in their household, and decides to treat her daughter to something that can remind her of how things used to be.

They follow their normal routine, with Therese arriving at the apartment a little after six, just in time for Carol to pull a pot roast from the oven. They'd originally shared similar schedules, but Carol shifts hers in mid-April so she has time to prepare dinner – not that Therese _expects_ it, never expects anything of the sort, but it makes her feel useful, in a way. She greets Therese with a kiss, ushers her over to the dinner table, and presents two plates that they enjoy slowly while Therese shares the details of her day.

“I heard from Fred today,” Carol says casually, pausing for a sip of wine.

Therese stops mid-bite, raising her eyebrows.

“He says that Rindy will be visiting this Friday.” Carol hides behind a forkful of potatoes, swallowing the tremble of fear and excitement in her voice.

Therese – sweet Therese, on the other hand – is ecstatic. She lets her utensils fall against her plate with a ' _clang_ ' and rushes to the other side of the table. “Carol, this is wonderful,” she exclaims, cupping the other woman's face. “She is going to be so happy to see you.”

Carol rises from her seat and into Therese's arms, something that should feel so strange with the difference in height and yet, is so natural in the moment. She buries her face in the nape of Therese's neck, nuzzling against the soft skin that still smells faintly of the perfume at her pulse point she'd applied early in the morning. “I sure hope so,” Carol eventually responds, her voice barely above a whisper.

“She will be,” Therese assures. “I know she will.”

**-X-X-X-X-**

On Thursday night, while Therese watches the television in the living room and fingers mindlessly through a newspaper, Carol wraps the small present she's purchased for Rindy – a bright red hair ribbon, along with a brown teddy bear that has its own matching bow. She'd only meant to buy the ribbon, but the stuffed toy had caught her attention in one of the department store displays. In the moment, she'd imagined the joy on Rindy's face if she were to receive it, and Carol's decision had immediately been made.

“You don't think I'm spoiling her too much, do you?” Carol asks Therese over her shoulder, cutting a crisp sheet of wrapping paper from the roll.

“You're allowed to spoil her, Carol. She's your daughter.”

“I know, but...” She folds the pink and white patterned paper around the edges of the cardboard box. “I don't want Harge to-” Although she's facing the other way, Carol can sense Therese's body language stiffen at the mention of her ex-husband's name. It doesn't take long into their reunion for her to realize how the subject affects Therese. They don't speak of him regularly, but on the rare occasion, Therese's blood always seems to run cold, the color draining from her cheeks.

Carol doesn't blame her. Not in the slightest.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Although Rindy isn't due to visit until closer to 5pm, Carol takes a personal day to prepare. It takes her all week to determine which outfit she will wear – a magenta dress with a thick belt and gold earrings. As she fastens the backings against her lobe, Carol remembers Rindy's fascination with the dangles as a baby, pulling at and playing with them every chance she could get. The far away memory leaves her misty-eyed, and Carol counts down the minutes until she can hold her daughter in her arms again.

Dusting off the bookshelf closest to the windowsill, Carol notices the beginnings of a rainstorm as the drops patter steadily against the glass.

Hair pinned back and a white apron tied around her waist, she effortlessly begins her dinner prep, dicing tomatoes and an onion and mincing several cloves of garlic. Canned ingredients would be easier to use, but tonight is not a night to cut corners, so she follows each step slowly and meticulously. The sauce comes together slowly and fills the apartment with the savory smell of Italian spices and stewed tomatoes. If Therese were here, Carol knows she'd be sneaking a taste, trying and failing to do so behind her back. Often, Carol pretends not to see it, but she always notices out of the corner of her eye, chuckling to herself at how much of a child Therese can still be, even after everything.

On Wednesday night, together in bed, Therese had suggested that it may be wise for them to change their routine for the night of Rindy's visit. It would give Carol and Rindy some privacy to enjoy each other's company and make up for the time they have lost. Carol had felt conflicted hearing the words come from Therese's mouth, actively proposing she stay away from the apartment she spends almost every night in, the only place they can truly be themselves without the shame or judgement of the outside world. And yet, the prideful and selfish part of Carol thanks Therese for being the one to mention it, saving her the trouble of breaking her lover's heart in asking her not to be there. With Therese in her arms, she'd simply responded with a soft, “Yes. That might be best.”

Around 4:00pm, Carol steps out of the apartment and onto the patio for a cigarette. She regularly smokes inside, but opts for the outdoors to keep the space smelling savory and fresh for her daughter's visit. The rain is heavier than before, but Carol manages to catch a flame by cradling the end of the cigarette beneath her palm. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, she allows the stresses of the last few months to fall from her shoulders and into the sky with the wisps of smoke curling around her. By the end of her break, the winds have picked up considerably; even the patio cover has a hard time withstanding them, a stream of rain trickling down the edge of it and into the very space it's supposed to protect. Carol gathers her cigarette case and lighter and returns to the kitchen.

While many find the act disgusting, Carol enjoys molding scoops of ground meat, eggs and breadcrumbs into perfectly round balls. It's strangely relaxing, reminiscent of working with wet clay or blown glass. The time passes quickly as she works, and before she knows it, 5pm is here. A pot of water sits on the back of the stove, heated to a rolling boil; Carol decides to wait to add the pasta until Rindy's arrival, as it will only take a few minutes to cook and she doesn't want the noodles to thicken or clump in the meantime. She sets the dinner table for two, placing the wrapped gift box in the center for Rindy to immediately see. When there's officially nothing left to do, Carol sits on the corner of the sofa and waits. The tick of the grandfather clock plays rhythmically from down the hall, and she can't help but obsessively check the watch at her wrist for an update on the time.

Once 5:30pm hits, she wonders if she'd misheard the time Fred had given her earlier in the week. By 6:00pm, as the weather shifts from standard rain to a blinding storm with on-and-off hail, the worry begins to set in. Carol contemplates calling Harge directly, but she'd been advised against it when the divorce and custody settlements had been finalized, and she's fearful that even the tiniest misstep could jeopardize her future with her daughter. By quarter after 6, she pulls the pot from the back of the stove and dumps the water down the sink, then switches off the burners, on only to keep the meat and sauce warm.

Carol tries to remain calm, but without Therese around to keep her level-headed, she switches between sitting anxiously at the table – manicured nails tapping nervously - and pacing around the apartment. If Therese were there, she'd make a comment about leaving a mark in the carpet that would annoy her and also – _secretly_ – make her smile.

Around 7pm – when she's officially going out of her skull with worry – the phone rings. Carol rushes over to it, almost dropping the handset in the process. Her voice trembles as she answers the call. On the other end, Harge's lawyer relays a string of excuses, the weather being the most prominent - something about it being too difficult to get all the way into the city from New Jersey, as though they had to travel hundreds of miles to see her. The impulsive and short-tempered part of her wants to tell the man off (and – in turn – her ex husband), but Carol bites her tongue. She has to give Harge credit. His lawyer is an expert storyteller, and if she wasn't so used to Harge's excuses, she may even have _believed_ them.

At some point, Carol eventually sets the phone back down onto the receiver. For a few minutes, she's not exactly sure how to react, standing stoically in the middle of the half-lit hallway. She smooths the skirt of her dress, takes a deep breath, and runs her fingers through her hair, trying to calm herself despite the urge to scream at the top of her lungs. Instead, she opts for another cigarette, grabbing her case from the kitchen table. It lights easier this time without the rain around her, yet the patter of the storm against the glass calls to her like a siren. She steps out onto the patio yet again with the cigarette still in hand. Unlike a few hours before, the rain is almost blinding. Carol can barely see in front of her, and within minutes, her hair is soaked. It blows in all directions, some strands flying back and forth, with others stuck to her cheeks and forehead. She tosses the soggy cigarette from between her fingers onto the ground and watches it fall apart from rushing water above. Eventually, Carol bows her head, closes her eyes, and parts her lips, allowing the sob she's been holding in to finally come out with a crack of her voice. The whistle of the winds masks the noise, and despite the severity of the storm around her, she feels almost safe in the middle of it.

Carol doesn't hear Therese walk through the front door, nor does she hear her step through the entryway between the apartment and the patio. It isn't until the girl is standing beside her, shouting above the roar outside, that she even realizes Therese has returned.

“What happened?” Therese yells. “I saw the gift on the table. And dinner.”

Carol holds her breath.

“Carol, why are you standing out in the rain?” Therese reaches for her hand.

The moment they make contact, Carol falls apart, shifting her body to bury her face in the nape of Therese's neck. She holds onto her for dear life, her whole body shaking as she finally allows herself to cry, to release all of the emotion that's been bubbling over the course of the week. They stand together for awhile, Therese using the wall of rain as a shield from the rest of the world, cradling Carol and combing through her wet, tangled hair with assurances that it will all be ok, that she is here, _always_ here, no matter _what_. That they – the word “they” in particular stands out and makes Carol's heart swell amongst the sadness – will do whatever it takes to see Rindy.

“Someone made a stunning meal in your kitchen, and I would sure hate to let it go to waste,” Therese teases after some time passes, placing a soft kiss on Carol's temple.

“I f-figured you'd already eaten,” Carol replies, her voice hitching with tears. “It has to be d-dreadfully cold by now.”

Therese shrugs. “Come inside with me?” With their fingers entwined, she gives them a squeeze. “Please?” she adds, taking a step back toward the apartment.

This time, Carol follows without hesitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Me:** Ok, if you're _not_ going to update Canvas, you should at least write something sweet and sexy and fluffy that everyone will love!  
>  **Also me:** Ok, so it's time to break everyone's hearts?
> 
> For what it's worth, I have one more "spring" chapter planned for this, which will definitely involve some happy times and - as is the theme here - a little fall of rain ;)
> 
> Comments make the author smile and inspire more. Also - the Canvas update is happening next. I promise ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! :)
> 
> Part 1 of 2 for this "chapter".

_The skies begin to clear_  
_And I'm at rest_

* * *

 

When May arrives, the spring rains begin to fade. Just as Carol had started to grow fond of them, taking her lunch break in the mid-afternoon each day to sit and admire the inevitable light rainfall, sunny skies with thick, white clouds greet her instead. The weather becomes consistently warm, and with it, Carol finds herself forgoing her daily routine of listening to the forecast on the radio. She instead relies on the dull ache in her wrist that always signals a strong storm – the result of an unfortunate fall from her bicycle as a child and a broken bone that never fully healed.

Carol chooses a thick, gold cuff bracelet from her jewelry box and slides it over her hand. It accents the dark brown evening dress she wears, which she finishes with tall black pumps and moonstone earrings that dangle from her ears. The winter weather had made them a bit reclusive, opting for evenings indoors in the warmth of their bed and the comfort of each other's arms, but the change in seasons also causes a shift in routine, particularly for Therese, who, one night over dinner, subtly suggests an evening at the theater.

“Jonathan and his wife went to see The Pajama Game over the weekend,” Therese shares, recalling a conversation she'd had with one of her coworkers. “He said Marie really enjoyed it.” She says nothing more about it, but Carol understands the intent.

As she applies a dark shade of Elizabeth Arden brand lipstick, Therese enters their bedroom, fastening the backing of her diamond studs. Carol turns from her dresser to admire her. Therese's navy dress and dark eye makeup make her look older and more sophisticated than usual. It reminds Carol of that night at the Oak Room when Therese had returned to her – still the girl she'd fallen in love with, but more hardened and refined.

Carol puts down her lipstick and moves to the doorway.

“Would you mind?” Therese asks, turning her back toward Carol. She gestures over her shoulder at the half undone gold zipper of her dress.

Carol ignores Therese's request for just a minute, opting to instead admire the bare skin in front of her. She runs her fingertips across it and smiles when Therese shivers beneath her touch. She brushes Therese's hair to the side and places a single kiss at the back of her neck. It amazes her how the smallest of touches still turns the girl into a trembling mess.

“We're going to be late,” Therese warns, but the tone of her voice is hardly that of a protest.

Carol smiles. Without another word, she pulls the zipper up Therese's back and fastens the clasp at her shoulders. Therese briefly disappears into their closet to decide on a suitable handbag, and Carol finds her own in the kitchen.

“Do you have our tickets?” Therese calls from the bedroom.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, darling, I'm sure.” Carol unfastens her clutch just to be certain; two tickets to the evening performance of The Pajama Game sit beside several dollar bills and a picture of Rindy. She sits at the table and waits for her date.

“I'm ready.” Therese emerges from the bedroom. The hallway lamp casts one side of her face in sharp shadows, but Carol still notices the newly applied gloss on the younger woman's lips. It makes them appear fuller, and it takes all the self control Carol has not to jump up and devour her. While it would certainly be a delicious idea, she knows Therese would be devastated to miss the show, so she instead takes Therese's arm in hers and guides her out of the apartment, once again admiring the way the navy dress hugs her body before locking the door and making their way outside.

The sun still shines and the temperature is warm and comfortable as they walk through New York City. They have plenty of time before the show and decide to walk for a few blocks before finding a cab. Carol desperately wants to hold Therese's hand as they stroll, and while some places are safe for them, the general public is less accepting. She settles on occasionally brushing her fingertips over Therese's wrist as they walk, which causes a gorgeously pink blush to creep up the girl's cheeks.

It's a coy game they play with each other, trying to cause the other to break. Carol is almost embarrassed by how many times Therese has won, bringing her to her knees with a well-placed hand and choice words whispered in her ear – words that she would have never imagined leaving sweet, _innocent_ Therese Belivet's lips.

The back of a taxi gives them an excuse to be close together. They find one a little more than a mile outside of the St. James, and while their driver is focused on the evening traffic, Carol subtly leans into Therese, catching scent of the floral perfume sprayed at her pulse. “You smell divine,” she whispers.

“It's yours,” Therese admits quietly.

Carol smiles coyly. “I know.”

They pull up to the front of the theater half an hour before curtain. Their driver wishes them well as they leave the cab, and as they step back into the New York City air, Carol feels the familiar ache in her wrist. She looks up at the sky – crisp and clear, without the slightest trace of rain. The sun has begun to set and the air is cooler, but there's no sign of rain. With Therese a few paces in front of her, Carol quickly massages the center of her wrist, then joins the younger woman in the lobby of the theater.

The show moves Therese to tears. The plot is nothing more than a fluffy romantic comedy, but Carol has learned over the months that Therese adores a happy ending. While Carol enjoys the performance, she finds herself more focused on the woman beside her. The darkness of the theater affords her the chance to gaze more lovingly than she can in most public spaces, and by the fifth song of the evening, Carol realizes she hasn't exactly been an attentive audience member. At the show's conclusion, she gives Therese's hand a quick squeeze before they rise to their feet to offer their applause as the actors take their bows.

“That was lovely, wasn't it?” Therese asks her as they make their way to the exit.

“Yes,” Carol agrees, although she's not exactly referring to the show itself, but the _real_ subject of her attention for the last three hours.

It's just before 11pm when they leave the theater. The sun has set and the temperature has dropped several degrees, but there is, once again, no sign of rain. Still, Carol's wrist continues to throb. She tries to hide her discomfort by playing with the gold bracelet hanging there, letting her thumb swipe over the muscle beneath it every-so-often. She leaves Therese in charge of finding a taxi amongst the crowd. Waiting at the edge of the sidewalk for her to return, Carol lifts her head up toward the sky and inhales slowly. The evening air is cool and refreshing, and although they'd enjoyed their time indoors over the winter, she finds she could get used to outings like this – as long as Therese is there to enjoy them with her. She closes her eyes and loses herself in thought.

A single drop of rain on her cheek causes her to open them again.

“It's no use,” Therese sighs, joining her. “I've tried for fifteen minutes, but I still can't find one. There's too much traffic right now with the show. Do you want to walk and try to pick one up further away?”

Carol squints. Surely she hadn't imagined the rain? Yet she'd felt no more than a single drop. Therese doesn't mention it herself, so she tosses her concern aside and smiles. “That sounds wonderful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments make the author smile and inspire more!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. I lied. _One_ more after this, which I think will be quite worth it ;) This is short, short, short, but the precursor to something delicious to come...
> 
> :D

_A breath away from where you are_   
_I've come home from so far_

* * *

 

They walk together in a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other's company and the beautiful spectacle of the city. The moon shimmers through the space between two large buildings, casting a beam of blue-tinted light that catches the diamonds fastened in Therese's ears. The twinkle is what steals Carol's attention, but it's Therese who keeps it, looking radiant beneath the moonlight.

“Thank you.”

Carol hears the two words, barely above a whisper. She briefly wonders if she's imagined it again until Therese looks over and smiles, waiting for a response. “What for?”

“Tonight.”

Therese doesn't expand on it much more than that, but Carol understands. Crowds have always made her anxious, only made worse during the course of her divorce with Harge. She'd felt as though she were being watched at every turn, that every action she'd taken and every decision she'd made had been under intense scrutiny. For her own protection, she'd withdrawn from the world, and, in turn, trapped Therese in the tangled web. And Therese – sweet Therese – had never complained, not once, not even implied any annoyance. Carol knows this pattern will lead the young woman to resent her, feeling suffocated inside an apartment of lost memories and missed opportunities. With her divorce finalized and summer around the corner – sweet summer, with its sunny days and humid nights, with its ice creams and bathing suits and impromptu road trips wherever her car can take them – Carol vows not to let her past fears prevent the endless possibilities in their future.

“Was it everything you'd hoped it would be?” Carol asks.

Therese lights up. “Oh yes. The score was wonderful. I wish I could play even half as beautifully.”

“You do,” Carol corrects without missing a beat.

Therese bows her head, but it doesn't hide the pink on her cheeks. Carol loves making her blush – whether from a compliment or something a bit more risqué. Often, Carol finds herself lost in her adoration of her young lover. How, she wonders, can someone look so beautiful at every angle? She watches as Therese's eyelashes flutter and a few drops of wetness trickle from them. Carol briefly mistakes them for tears and panics until she feels the drops in turn at the bridge of her nose.

Rain. Stranded without a cab or even an umbrella. Carol curses their misfortune under her breath. She searches frantically for somewhere to escape, not so much for herself but for the woman beside her. Within seconds, the skies open and the rain turns from a light, sporadic drizzle to a full on storm, soaking the both of them through the fabric of their dresses. Carol notices an awning less than a block away and gently ushers Therese to it. “Go,” she shouts over the patter of rain on the road and sidewalk. “I'll find us a cab.”

“Not without you,” Therese insists.

Carol wonders how she always seems to know the right thing to say. She rushes to Therese's side and eyes the sign for the business they're standing outside of. She doesn't recognize the name, but the neon glow of the sign and the dimmed lights inside signal some sort of bar. At the very least, it's a place to dry off. A few minutes inside will be enough to warm up and allow the crowds to lessen.

They step into the bar together, Carol standing right behind Therese in a protective stance, unsure what to expect as they move deeper into the room. The establishment is mostly empty, and the waitress seems more than eager to wait on them, even as rainwater drips onto the table and floor. They apologize for their appearances. The waitress brushes them off with a laugh.

Carol orders a Sidecar while Therese chooses a Manhattan. With a smirk, Carol admires Therese's sudden maturity, but also guesses it won't be long until her lover is no longer sober.

Jazz plays softly behind them. They sit quietly while Carol takes the time to admire the beauty across from her. A drop of water trickles to the ends of Therese's damp hair and down her neck, and Carol's eyes follow its entire trip across a sharp collarbone and between the subtle curve of skin at Therese's breast.

Without a flinch, Therese enjoys the strong mix of whisky, bitters, and vermouth. Most days, she barely looks old enough to drink, but there's a seductive maturity in her features and body language tonight that Carol finds irresistible. How a single look – with dark eyes and glossed lips and pronounced dimples – can do _so_ much to her, Carol will never understand, but she finds herself desperate for a smoke to keep her composure. She digs into her clutch for one, then brings it to her mouth and lights it, inhaling slowly.

“May I?” Therese asks.

Carol nods, handing the cigarette over. There is something so provocative about it, an innocent, friendly gesture to the rest of the world, but Therese's intent is so much more suggestive than it appears. Carol can read it all over the girl's face, with her subtly raised eyebrows and puckered lips as the smoke curls between them. A flash of tongue can't be missed as Therese brings the cigarette to her lips once more before handing it back, fingertips brushing in the exchange.

Carol bites her lower lip, then drinks slowly from her cocktail glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make the author smile and inspire more. I have had an unexpectedly lovely day and just had to use my happiness and excitement to crank out this little addition. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW :)

_I'll sleep in your embrace at last_

* * *

 

As Therese finishes the last sip of her second drink, cheeks pink from the warmth of the whiskey in her glass, Carol pulls enough cash to settle the bill from her purse and tosses it into the center of the table. She stands swiftly, the damp material of her dress pressed tightly against her waist and thighs. The rain still falls steadily – Carol can hear the soft patter of it against the glass windows that line the front of the bar – but a glance over at the clock on the wall says it's later than either of them had anticipated staying out, and the coy way Therese looks at her from across the table says she still has more plans for the evening.

“Stay at the doorway,” Carol instructs, trying to spare Therese from the growing storm as much as possible. But there's little use in keeping her away. Therese is defiant and stubborn when she wants to be, even more so with booze in her system, Carol has learned. It's charming in its way, and so she doesn't argue when Therese stands by her side.

It had been a jolt to the system before, but the rain now feels unexpectedly refreshing. Perhaps it was the brandy, or the wet flash of Therese's skin as they'd sat together, but Carol is hot in more ways than she can describe. Masked by the wall of rain, she takes Therese's hand in hers and pulls her toward the nearest cab she find, which is a much easier feat after midnight.

A safe distance apart in the backseat, Carol observes Therese, who watches the rain make its jagged course across the window. It reminds her of the night only weeks ago when Therese had returned to her. They'd shared a ride back to her apartment amidst a late-season snow storm, and true to form, Therese had been captivated by the white flakes swirling on the other side of the glass. Carol, however, had been captivated by _her_ , desperate to touch her in ways watching eyes forbade.

She still struggles with it – the inability to show the affection that runs so vigorously through her. How different the scene is now when compared to years ago, where it had been so socially acceptable for her husband to kiss and embrace her in public, and yet she'd hidden from every attempt as often as she could. Now, she would give anything to simply hold Therese's hand as they stroll down the sidewalk, or to kiss her sweet face in the grass at Central Park.

Carol sighs quietly and resigns to the subtlest touch she can manage. With Therese turned to the window, she reaches over and brushes a few wet strands of brown hair from the girl's cheek. Therese's body language remains mostly unchanged, except for her eyes, which flutter shut at the soft touch of Carol's index finger.

Darkness welcomes them as they step into the apartment. Carol moves to switch on a lamp, but Therese stops her. They stand in silence with Therese's back against the door. Mere inches apart, Carol notices how Therese trembles, her hands shaking as she brings one up to stroke the back of Carol's neck.

“Darling, are you cold? I could draw you a bath.”

Carol dances her fingers along the zipper at the back of Therese's dress. They're both soaked to the bone from the rain, and the heaviness of the wet material naturally helps it drape over Therese's shoulders as Carol releases the gold clasp at her neck. As the dress falls to the floor, Carol leans in and delicately kisses along Therese's jawline.

When Therese finds Carol's skin, nails dragging up her leg and along her thigh as she bunches up the bottom of the soaked brown dress to caress and tease, Carol buries her face in Therese's hair. It smells sweet and flowery, like spring rain and lilac, fresh in a way that is distinctly Therese. She kisses the girl's temple and closes her eyes.

When they finally kiss, open mouthed and sensuous, a heat swirls between them, such a stark contrast to the wet chill of the rain. Carol slides her hand between Therese's legs, and the wetness there is _hot_ – so different, yet so inviting.

At the touch, Therese whimpers into Carol's mouth and tugs harder at the fabric in her hands until she finally manages to pull it from over Carol's body. Therese maneuvers a leg between Carol's, and the pastel pinks and blues of spring spark behind the older woman's eyelids at the sensation.

“Take me to bed.”

But this time, it's Carol who makes the request.

Therese is timid in the way she approaches many things, but Carol has fondly found that lovemaking is not one of them. She spreads her legs at Therese's instruction and lets her head fall into the pillows at the headboard. Therese's breath on her inner thigh is delicious torture, but it's the tickling wetness of her mouth that brings Carol such pleasure, to another existence where there is no judgement, no hiding, no divorces or morality clauses.

Just Carol and Therese, Therese and Carol.

By instinct, she closes her eyes and braces herself on the headboard.

“Look at me,” Therese demands.

Even in the dark, Carol can still see the shine of her lover's eyes and the flash of a smile. Therese's fingers join her mouth, and Carol digs her nails into Therese's back and shoulders, slick from her wet hair and a sheen of sweat.

She will never get used to this, feeling so vulnerable and exposed and at someone else's mercy. Until Therese, every action had its cons weighed, and Carol had felt suspect at every turn. But slowly – with her kisses and caresses and assurances each and every day – Therese breaks her down and, with the leftover pieces, molds her into something new. There are traces of her old self, of course, but it's a happier and freer woman that greets her in the reflection of her mirror each morning.

The sound of her heartbeat mixed with the pattern of rain on their bedroom window pounds in Carol's ears. She knows it's louder to her than the rest of the world, but it works as a personal sound proof barrier that encourages this new self. Carol's mouth drops open as Therese's fingers work deeper, and with it, a sultry moan, then another, and another, until she can hardly control herself, a string of whimpers and cries falling from her lips.

Gently tugging at a fistful of brown hair, Carol pulls Therese up to her and kisses her slowly. It's deliciously indecent as Carol's tongue explores and tastes. She cups Therese's cheek with her hand and strokes along the center of her throat, feeling the vibration there as her own whimper escapes.

Later, Therese falls asleep with her head nuzzled against Carol's stomach. The steady pattern of Therese's breath tickles her hipbone, and as she finds herself slowly dozing, Carol strokes a few wisps at the back of Therese's neck. The soft sound of snoring and the blowing wind outside of the apartment act as a perfect spring lullaby.

Contented, Carol closes her eyes and listens to the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the end of spring, but fear not - I already have some ideas for a summer series. Stay tuned ;) 
> 
> And, of course, those other two fics of mine...oh yeah. Those. ;p 
> 
> Comments make the author smile and inspire more. What have you thought of this series of short stories? Thank you to all who have read!


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